Je t'aime, Merci
by Desenchanter
Summary: Through the nightmares of WWII a half-breed belittled solider found someone so precious. A mix-blooded damaged, dainty, detainee locked away in a horrid frozen hellhole that only he saved her from, earning her endless gratitude. No lemons
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**: Through the nightmares of WWII a half-breed belittled solider found someone so precious. A mix-blooded damaged, dainty, detainee locked away in a horrid frozen hellhole that only he saved her from, earning her endless gratitude. Mature content. No lemons

**Rating: **M because this is a mature story in a lot of senses, there will be hints to 'mature' situations, some strong language, and other things of that nature but there will not be any lemons.

**|x{: J**_e _**t'a**_ime_, **M**_erci_:**}x|  
**[._**1**_.]

Summer fell, freeing them for the smoldering, cruel rays that it brought, the milder season they had hoped for did not last, though, and quickly gave way to a particularly frigid winter. So quickly, too quickly, what little clothes they were given could not warm their chilled bodies so they often piled together to try and generate warmth. Yet, if one was not careful when they awoke they'd find their socks missing and would have to go through the day with barefoot upon the solid, slick, dirt floor.

What was the point of all they were forced to do?

How were the meant to live on such little food?

They wasn't really any, and they weren't. There was no denying that, those who had arrived at the hellhole first did not know that, but those that were pooled in after the horror stories began to be whispered about knew what it meant when they were shuttled onto the carts full of smelly bodies and dead carcass to stand, squashed together, for such a long ride to who-know's-where.

None of them ever knew, the children… it was hardest to hear their innocent cries.

That was how the lovely blue-eyed maiden with loose curls of onyx had ended up in such a mess, for the sake of the poor, poor children. It was wrong what the Germans were doing, what the _Nazis_ were, it would be worse—you'd be no better than _them_—to just ignore it when you knew what was going on, when you _knew_ where your neighbors where vanishing to. Yes, she could have clung onto the false ideals that were spread about that they were just _fine_, that they'd return, that they were just in an area filled with others like them, no harm would come to them… but those were lies and only seemed true for a year or so, then the truth leaked out but so many refused to let heir happy worlds of delusion fade.

Fear, it's too powerful of a weapon.

All her life she was told she was 'fearless', rather, that she was foolish—always doing this and that when someone with sense would not, her mother always said, climbing a tree too high only to fall and break an arm, talking back to teachers when she was certain they were wrong, bullying the bullies of her school when they picked on others only so they'd turn their attention onto her and she'd return with a scrape or two. Her father would often sigh and say 'one would think you were a boy, darling' with the reckless way she acted, but she'd just smile and say she had to. He was proud of her, he'd say so often, and showered her with affections for her attitude.

There was no doubt, he didn't try to hide it, she was his beloved, his little angel that her cherished eternally.

She loved him, too, endlessly and just as he favored her to her brother, she preferred him to her mother—strange, non? It wasn't grand, she adored her mother; too, it was just if she was in trouble she'd always go running to daddy, he could always make it better. Always…

When the war started though, being the good Frenchman he was, he left to fight in it, kissing his prized wife from a land for east goodbye, his half-and-half daughter, and young son. If only she knew then he'd never be coming back, she would have held him all the tighter and longer while telling him a thousand times more how much she loved him.

His fair daughter, the exotic beauty she was, was lucky to be blessed with a trait from his side, his eyes. They were unique at that, too, they had a haze of gray to the blue, seemingly swirling around, and the more one stared at them the more one was charmed by her. That's why she could get away with her 'recklessness' for so long.

That's why when the German occupation started in her homeland, the only place she had ever been able to call _her_ home, they were equally enchanted by her. Yes, her hair was the wrong color, her skin was an odd mix of oriental and fair, but her eyes were spot on. She used it to her advantage, she no longer lived with her mother or brother, she had her own place in the countryside—it was left to her by her father, a place they spent so many joy rich summers at. Now, Kagome Fortescue could not, would not, stand by and do nothing as those who she had known since childhood disappeared. Not when she finally found out what really happened, at least, what was rumored to have happened to them. Rumors or not, she could not in good conscious turn a blind eye.

Her father was a staunch catholic, what hell her mother had to raise to give her precious children names from her country's origin, and her mother had converted for her love's sake, which meant her children were the same. Had she not learned in all the sermons her father took her to, to 'love thy neighbor'? Was she truly the only one to take that to heart? No, the thrill she received by learning that others were out there doing the same as she regained faith in humanity.

She hid some, children, precious, _innocent_ children in the farm outside her home. Her friends begged her to take them, in case they were to disappear, days later they did… but their children where safe, all three of them, and she swore to keep it that way.

A season passed and it seemed that all would be fine, another faded and no one was the wiser, but with one more alteration their luck was lost.

His name was Colonel Wilfred Gottschalk—she had no idea how ironic that name was until she learned German during her imprisonment, _God's servant;_ she would laugh at the idiocy of it if it was not so sad. Colonel Gottschalk was a 'Jew hunter' in search of a few throughout France, in Lyon, that were unaccounted for… he had told her they could do it easily, that she could admit she housed the rats, or they could do it difficulty and the entire place could be torn apart in search of them. If done easily, she'd be spared. If done with force, she would receive the same fate as those that were surely to be found.

Needless to say, she could not taint her soul by complying, how _angry_ he was—a slap across the face was the last thing she remembered before she heard the cry of the children being dragged out of the haystacks they hid in.

They were torn from her upon arrival at their destination and led to the chambers, she didn't know until later what happened there… was it peaceful? Was it painless? She hoped so, she prayed so, she yearned for that solace…

Oh, she was blessed, so many had told her that God had given her the great gift of beauty, natural, faultless, features that made her endearing. That beauty was just that, but it was a curse as well. Upon arrival, after being deemed 'worthy to live' she caught the eye of a certain General Jaeger—_his _name was not ironic, it was fitting. It was her eyes—he often told her in his drunken German late in the evening—that had caught his fancy.

Though it was hard to be, she was thankful to be deemed 'worthy' of his attention, and of his favorite Colonel Kaiser's, too. Life for her was easier than those around her, she did not get much more food than them, nor clothing, but she did not have to do the same label as them and was often in their abode's—their _warm_, fire filled homes. It sheltered her from the harsh weather of all the seasons.

True, she was forced to do certain activities she would _never _do—at first, she protested, at first, she thought death would be better, but getting beaten so often tended to break one's will. Even hers, was her father disappointed?

Her life was better than her friends there because of those terrible deeds she submitted to—not too often, but often enough.

Of course, she had another talent that they enjoyed seemingly endlessly, too. She had a pretty voice and knew many songs, she'd sing for the General, the Colonel, and the soldiers for their amusement. It was not so bad, though she hated it when she was forced to learn songs from their culture. She distasted the way German tasted upon her tongue; it was their language, not hers.

They were interested in hearing their comrade's songs, though they thought little of their Japanese allies, they were enthralled to hear her sing some of their folklores. She learned them from her mother, honestly, she was sure that was another saving grace. She looked different than those around her, she looked exotic, and that was why her beauty was enthralling. That's what the Colonel liked best about her, and he said so often.

That didn't stop them from constantly addressing her by 'hure' and little else. It didn't matter… none of it did. She wasn't sure how long she had been there but so many seasons seemed to have faded, what would become of her?

Would there ever be a life outside the hell she was lost in?

No… when the glacial winter came, she stopped her useless hoping—did that mean she stopped caring?

**{~x—x~}**

All his life he had been ridiculed because he looked different, because he _was_ different. He was a half-breed, part 'Jap' and part American. He was fair skinned enough to pass off as pure Anglo-Saxon, anyone could have as jet-black hair as he, but his eyes were just off and so dark, almost black. He was teased on the playground because of them, they said the eyes were the window to the soul and the fact that his were so bleak meant he was _soulless_.

His mother, the stunning foreign woman, just smiled and hushed his worries away. She'd tell him tales of her country to make him proud of his heritage… and then she died and with her any chance that he'd be happy to be half of what she was full of. His father was a prestigious businessman and was away almost always, they barely had any relationship… he didn't know his son was bullied, he didn't care.

Finally, a saving-grace came to him, _her_. Hayashi Kikyou, a Japanese beauty who was made fun of because of her looks, too. That, and she was intimating, her cool attitude, her… everything, they found each other, they stuck together. They needed each other and no one else, of course. It was a love formed to fill the void they both felt, they needed just one person to accept them, and when they discovered that brilliant feeling they didn't care about anything else—perhaps it was love formed from need, but it was true thru and thru.

Pearl Harbor happened… and their lives were worse, he was half-enemy, she was _pure_ enemy but they were lucky enough to be on the East coast and his father had enough connections that there was no chance that either would ever be shuttled away to those little camps filled with Japanese that America liked to pretend did not exist. They only had to wait a little while and they finally both reached the right age, they married without hesitation. First, though, he changed his name. The one his mother gave him was _such_ a bother.

Forevermore, he'd be John Renoir. Kikyou didn't mind, she frowned upon it, but she shrugged all the same.

They were intimate once, their wedding night; it was the happiest either had been in ages.

It was the last bit of joy they'd share, he enlisted, _that_ she hated but he didn't pay any heed to her screams. He had to, he had to prove he was _American_ first and foremost, that his wife and him were _Americans_—she was born and raised for most her life in California, he was born and raised in Maryland. He. Was. American.

So, he'd go fight for his country, he'd prove that.

The hell he was certain would cease didn't, once his fellow fighters found out he was _half_-Japanese he got ridiculed over and over again. He wanted to go to the Pacific; he wanted to fight _against_ them to prove it, to prove he wasn't one of them, but he was sent to Europe instead. The only solace he got were the letters he received from his wife, his joy, his love. The words that warmed his heart, the news that gave new meaning to his life—he'd be a father. Shock was the first feeling to cascaded through him, they had only ever been together once yet they'd produced a child all the same?

He would be a dad and never see the birth of his child, when would he get to meet him? Would he…? Yes, he found a new resolve to make it out of the damp, muddy, ditches. He wouldn't be hit by any of the bullets; he'd endure the grotesque conditions they lived in.

A year passed, he had a daughter, a lovely little girl he was certain _and_—almost as great—he earned the respect of all those around him. He became 'Johnny', their pal, the guy that had their back, the boy that was no different than them.

Seasons shifted, they moved from field to field, stalemate to stalemate. Three passed, _three_ long years—he'd received pictures of his little girl and that was good enough. She was adorable; it was thanks to her mother, he was positive.

Then a particularly harsh winter came just as the worst letter he'd ever receive came.

His wife, his life… she died. She was dead. Dead. _Dead_. An illness swept through her, she was gone. Gone, he'd never see her again. His father, too, but he had a feeling it was his failing liver that did him in. His sister-in-law had moved to Maryland after he was shipped out, she'd take care of his daughter while he was away.

For some time he flirted with the idea of letting a bullet take him, to stop the pain he didn't know could exist but he couldn't, his little girl was waiting for him, a little girl he did not know…

Then they got orders to free a camp, the Germans were surrendering. How could humans do such things to each other? When they trekked through the snow they were welcomed by withering figures by barbwire fences and a pile of shriveled, dead, bodies frozen together, snow gradually covering the heaps and heaps… the soldiers that ran the place admitted defeat without a single gunshot, they waved white flags, they held their hands up in the air as they were pushed into a line.

These disgusting men… they were responsible for the hell that they were witnessing, why did they deserve mercy? Most of them were thinking that, perhaps all of them, and they were all freezing, shacking, and ready to leave. Ready for the war to end, ready to go _home. _A thud of snow fell from the roofs of one of the buildings, it made such a loud echo, someone pulled a trigger then another, then a symphony sounded off… was it murder? Slaughter? He wasn't sure, but he took part in it all the same.

No guilt came to him when he glanced to the fence to see the nearly lifeless bodies that had watched… no, could you really murder _murders_?

They were ordered to search the place before they left, to make sure that they had everyone, that no Nazi was trying to hide from them, so he did just that and him and the two he was with found two man—a General and his Colonel, they were startled and they _had_ guns, just not drawn.

It didn't matter; their blood stained the white snow.

He turned the corner and found a girl that was barely anything more than bones, kneeling in the pure powder, staring aimlessly ahead. Even though she looked like death, she still had a certain appeal; he still took pause before walking over to kneel down beside her, "hello?"

That earned him her loose attention but she said nothing in return.

"Do you speak any English?" He asked and waited just a while, she didn't say anything, he couldn't take it. He pulled off his coat and placed it over her shoulders and slammed the bag he carried, removing his spare pair of boots from it and putting them on her feet that were _so_ cold. She let him treat her like a doll without protesting, without responding at all. It was like she was a ghost, her eyes were piercing, and they won her attention when she caught them.

"You are free," he slowly stated, it wouldn't help if she didn't understand his words, but he tried all the same. "We've taken the camp… you will get to go home."

Her eyes widened some, just enough that he knew she understood his words enough, maybe not fully, "the… Nazis," would she like to hear it? Yeah, anyone would, "they are _dead_. All of 'em."

The first noticeable breath left her lips in a puff before she lunged forward to wrap her frail arms around his neck and dug her head into his shoulder to cry, "merci beaucoup, merci! Merci!"

It shocked him but… he didn't care, he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close. She was a stranger but… it still meant something to know that everything he did _meant_ something. That moment gave him a reason for the hell he endured for leaving his wife, to know that he'd never see her again, to miss his child's birth.

It was for the girl he held, for all the barely warm bodies just out of sight. There was a reason…

For that, he had to whisper back, "thank you."

* * *

**A/N**: I know this was rather bleak and a little angsty. I think I'm going to contiune this... or I may just change and leave it as a one-shot. I don't know. (A random rant follows, you may disregard it)  
Putting that aside, I feel like a bit of a hypocrite right now. I usually disapprove of Kagome's eyes being protrayed as blue since they are brown (even though some artwork done by Rumiko Takahashi have them as purple/blue at times, they are still **brown**, I assume she just does that stuff for fun). But it was necessary for this one so... oh well.

Thank you for reading and pretty please review?


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating: **M because this is a mature story in a lot of senses, there will be hints to 'mature' situations, some strong language, and other things of that nature but there will not be any lemons.

**|x{: J**_e _**t'a**_ime_, **M**_erci_:**}x|  
**[.**2**.]

Her savoir, her stranger, was right, she got to go home after so, _so_, long. Her mother cried when she saw her, out of joy just as much as sorrow. The precious prodigal daughter finally returned, tattered and as thin as a twig, her mother was as loving as ever, and sweet, and without her she would have never been nurtured back to health in such haste but… her homeland, the country that had always owned her heart, was destroyed, the beauty was gone from the war that had totaled it, and the bliss she once got simply walking around no longer came.

Her younger brother had left some time ago, much against his will—his mother made him—to Canada, for a better life. He sent letters say how he moved to America and was now engaged to a lovely lady, he yearned to see his family, and he begged them to come to the wedding.

It was out of their budget but then… then her mother passed, in peace, in her sleep. She could not say it tore her apart; her mother was smiling. Kagome had often pondered what the afterlife held, all that time in that hellish place, how could she not? Of course, she did not know, she didn't bother to pretend she did, but what she did believe—fully, completely—was that her mother was smiling because she was finally with her father. That was why she could not mourn for too long, why she sold everything shortly after to make her journey to America to be with her brother.

It would have been so difficult if not for the fact that her sister-in-law's father was such a big shot in the government. Her visa was approved quickly and it was a blessing for her brother that his wife, Alana White turned Alana Fortescue, was from a very well-off family so they had a nice Georgetown townhouse on a family-friendly street and plenty of room for her.

Quickly, she became good friends with the woman she slowly began to consider the sister she never had. There was a bit of a language barrier, her English was not yet ideal and Alana only knew what little French her husband had taught her—she often giggled and explained how it was the fact that he was such a foreigner and his _debonair _accent that won her heart.

A winter passed by before she decided that she would dare ask dear Alana, the sweet girl that _never_ asked about the tattoo on her arm or of the horrors she surely witnessed, for a favor.

Was it odd that she kept the jacket her stranger had given her and boots, too? No, she didn't think so, he was her _hero_. She could never part with the tattered thing. The poor man, he must have been so cold when they parted ways… he probably didn't care to get it back but she wanted to, terribly.

Of course, as soon as she told Alana of it she doted over the story—it was _so_ romantic, she often giddily declared—so _of course_ she would ask her papa to find the man. He was Colonel for the army so he could surely find the soldier. It probably really, _really_ helped that she had his dog-tags, they had snapped off in his haste to tear off his jacket to give to her. She hadn't noticed until he was pulled away by one of his friends to do something.

John Renoir, the name was forever embedded in her mind, her heart, her soul.

"Oh, Kagome!" Alana exclaimed as she clasped her hands upon her chest, a special glimmer in her eyes, "you will never believe what luck we have! This man, John Renoir, he lives in Maryland, too! Not more than fifteen minutes from here, oh! Kagome, it's fate!"

"Alana," she smiled weakly as she tried to calm the girl down, "did you get his number?"

"Yes, here," she couldn't help but glee as she handed her the note, "oh, I'm so excited!"

"Yes," she could tell but she didn't want her around when she called him so she shooed her off before forcing her shaky fingers to follow the correct set of numbers. Her heart raced with each ring until, finally, someone answered.

"Hello?" A perky _female_ voice retorted—why did she feel a pang? Of course the handsome, brave, man would be married. "Hello? Is someone there?... Hello?'

"Uh, oui," she finally managed but swiftly shook her head, "is… John Renoir there?"

"Yes, hold on one second," it really was speedy until the voice that she cherished spoke, "hello?"

Her breath was hitched in her throat as he repeated the word twice before sighing, "hello," she sped in hopes to catch him prior to the phone meeting the receiver. It was silly, she shouldn't be so shy, so nervous, she had every right to call him and thank him endlessly, though… would he think that she was strange to go to such lengths? Most likely, but she'd feel better to know that she thanked him again.

"Hello?" he repeated again, "who is this?"

"This…" she closed her eyes as her fingers fiddled with the black wire that swirled out of the phone, "this is… Kagome Fortescue."

"I," he paused, "I am sorry, do I know you…?"

"No, not really," oh, French, German, and Japanese she could master but English was tricky, "we… we met… I, you freed me from Lager."

It was a while before anything was said, "did I…?"

"Yes," of course he would not remember her, they did not even exchange names, so why would he? "I have your jacket and boots. Will you give me your address? I can send them." Sure, she could just take the address that Alana gave her but she'd prefer his permission first.

"Oh," realization seemed to strike him with that awe, "you are _that_ girl! How are you? I've been thinking about you. I'm so glad to hear you are still alive. How did you get this number?"

Lucky for her, while _speaking_ English was still not great and she had quite the heavy accent thanks to her constant conversations—or, simply, listening to the mostly one-sided-conversations—with Alana she understood English very well, not the strange sayings or anything like that, and she still had to pause to process his words, but she was certain she comprehended it. "I am fine," was the easiest answer, "I am sorry. My sister-in-law… her father is a Colonel, you dropped your metal—your dog-tags."

"Do you have those, too?"

"Yes," oh, it lightened her heart to hear him so eager.

"I was wondering what happened to those… so you are alright, then? Good, good, I'm glad. You're French, huh? How are you calling? Are you in the States?"

She nodded along to his words until he was finished, "yes."

"Did you move here?"

"Oui," she pressed her lips, "I mean, yes. Yes, I moved here. My brother, he lives here."

"That's good; I'd feel bad about you having to pay to mail me that stuff, where do you live? If it's too far, I'd rather you not waste the money."

"No, please let me," after all he did for her, no amount of money would matter. "I am in Maryland."

"Maryland?" He gawked, "really? That's great! I live there. Perfect. How about we meet? Just tell me somewhere close to yours that we can meet at and you can just give me my stuff there. That way, you don't need to waste any money."

"Non, non, let me—"

"No, please—"

"You saved _my_ life," she emphasized hastily, "let me come to you."

**{~x—x~}**

Alana dressed her up so finely for her meeting, she did her make-up, her hair, and bought her the prettiest blue dress—"It brings out your eyes," Alana awed.

It was too kind of her; really, she was too kind, so innocent and sweet. She was just the type of person Kagome needed to meet, to remember that humans were not all monsters, just some. It helped, as well, that she was a curly blonde with bright blue eyes from German descent to remind her that _they_, too, were not horrid. Her mother, the women Alana inherited her personality from, had emigrated straight from Germany.

She stood outside the café they were to meet at; constantly taking a deep breath in followed by another out, it was really foolish. What had happened to the fearless child she used to be? It was not her experiences that took that from her, it was just him. He made her heart flutter, her cheeks flush, and her feet want to edge away.

Finally, she found the courage to close her eyes and then step through the door to open them and see that it was fairly empty, just a couple in the corner, a girl behind the counter, and _him_ sitting at a table with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. She swallowed before walking over to him and placing his finely cleaned items upon the table.

"Hi," he grinned as he stood up to look her over quickly, "you look really good. Not," he sped as she shook his hands, "like that, well, you do, but I mean physically—I mean, you look healthy."

She couldn't help but smile at his fluster, "thank you, you do as well."

"Here, sit down," he gestured, "do you want something to drink?"

"Tea, please," she replied as she did as he requested, he was off and back quicker than she had expected with a cup of warm liquid. The lovely little café was not too far from her home, luckily, it was but a few minutes walk away. "I am sorry, but you are… half Japanese, yes?"

His expressions went blank for a moment before he glanced away and nodded.

"Je—me, me as well."

"Oh?" That seemed to gain his attention back, "really? Half-Jap and Half-French?"

She nodded, "my father was French, my mother Japanese."

"Was?"

"Yes, they have both passed, my father in war, my mother just a year ago. She went tranquilly, she was smiling."

"I see, then—"

"I am sorry," she interrupted, "Japanese, do you speak? My English is not great but my Japanese is very good."

"Very, very little," he retorted with a bit of a frown, "my mother taught me when I was a kid but she died when I was young and I had no one to talk with so I forgot most of it."

"French?" She coaxed hopefully.

"Very little of that, too, just what I picked up while I was over there."

"German…?"

"The same, I'm a classic American, we only know English," he joked with a shrug, "your English is fine, I can understand you, don't worry about it."

"Okay," she couldn't help but pout, "this is… a cute petit café."

"Thanks, I own it," he couldn't help but relish in the sparkle that brought to her eyes, "my father was a big businessman, he left me a lot of money and my wife… she opened this place up while I was away, I renamed it when I got back and it's what I do now. I like it, it's only about ten minutes from my place and the money is good and so are the hours."

Wife, she glanced away to the cute girl behind the counter, she looked just right and even _Japanese_. Oh, and she was pretty, very pretty.

His eyes must have followed hers because he swiftly added, "that's Sango, she's just an employee. It's not the easiest thing in the world to be Japanese and in America right now, so I gave her a job. It's pretty much just she and I running the place… it's kinda hard but," he shrugged as he rested in his seat, "we manage."

"Your wife…?"

"She passed while I was away… she was sick," he murmured with a weak nod, his dark gaze locked upon his slowly cooling cup, "so, you live here with your brother? I hope you didn't have to travel too far, Maryland might not be the biggest state but—"

"I live five minutes from here," she explained, "so do not worry."

"Is that so?" he grinned, "that's great. I'm glad… I'm guessing your brother and you are pretty close, huh?"

"He is younger than me and we were apart for a long time but we are close. His wife is lovely, too. I like living with them. They are very kind for letting me."

"Family is family, my sister-in-law lives with me, too." She couldn't help but smile, the woman on the phone was his _in-law_ not wife. "She… is great; I don't know what I'd do without her. She helps me here when I need it and she is," he pressed his lips together some before he glanced up to her, "pretty much a live-in nanny for me."

"You have children?" She assumed with a small tilt of her head as she took a sip of her tea.

"Just one, a four year old, I'm just getting to know her now. I was off in Europe when she was born."

"What is her name?"

"Mai," he pronounced it 'may' first before saying it again 'ma' 'i', "Mai. Her mom, my wife, she was Japanese, too. So she decided to name her something that could go both ways, Mai—like the month, most people would just think that but it was spelled odd. Or—"

"Mai," Kagome laughed with a nod, "written with the character for dance? That Mai?"

"Yeah, well, that's what Kaede—my sister-in-law—tells me. I've never been able to read Kanji or Katana or anything like that."

"That is very smart," she praised, "my name is Japanese. It cannot pass for French. My name was very odd, I was… how do you say? Teased?"

"Yeah, I understand that," he said with a sigh and a weak smile, "John is a name I picked, I grew up… don't laugh, OK?"

"I promise," she assured.

"Inuyasha, I know," he waved off her small giggle, "it's weird. Dog-demon, odd, right? But my mom loved this story of a half-breed demon in the feudal era; he was supposed to be the protector of some pretty maiden and helped her free the world from some evil fusion of demons. She said it was her favorite tale as a child, and that the 'hanyou' was made fun of often because he was half-and-half but that only made him stronger. She said, since I would most likely endure the same fate that she thought the name was truly fitting. Needless to say, it was the key to a _lot_ of my childhood torment."

"Inuyasha," she mused, "I like that. I know the story. Do you know the name of the miko in that story? The girl he protected?"

He shook his head, "I don't really remember it well, my mom told me it and once she passed… I stopped hearing it."

"Kagome," she eagerly declared, "isn't that odd? Our names are linked from an old fable."

"Really?"

"Oui, oui, ma mère told me that story, too. My grand-père loved to tell fables so my mom did, too."

It was cute, endearing even, that she switched up her languages without seemingly meaning to when she was so eager but he liked it. He couldn't help it; the frightened twig he remembered had turned into such a pretty, pretty girl so filled with life. Her absent façade was now so filled of expressions; he hoped she'd stay that way.

"Hey," he started on a whim, "do you have job?"

"Non, regrettably," she sighed, "I wish I did. Then I would not be such a… bum," she nodded when she found the right word.

"This place is getting more popular, I certainly could use the help and if it is only five minutes away then maybe…?"

"Oh," she gasped as she clasped her hands over her mouth, "truly? Oh! Merci! Merci beaucoup! I would love that!"

"So would I," he whispered.

"Dieu vous bénisse," she eagerly declared while clapping her hands together, "you are a godsend, Monsieur Renoir."

That wiggled a smile out of him as he nodded, he could use a little light in his life, too.

**{~x—x~}**

She was perky and full of delight, constant smiles, laughs, and pleasantries. Swiftly she earned the affections of many of the regular customers. Most importantly, she became the beam of joy in his day. Each morning she came in with a smile, each evening she left with one.

How? He often wondered as he watched her clean counters and tables or prepare the orders, she had surely been threw worse than him but she has could still be so happy every day. Not once did he hear her complain, on the contrary she had nothing but thanks. She was grateful for the home her brother shared with her, the job that she he gave her, and it seemed the most—the little girl she loved to dote over.

"Mai-chan," she chimed as she knelt down at the table in the corner that the little chocolate eyed girl sat out.

"Kagome," she replied with a smile while she looked up from her coloring book.

"Want anything to drink?" She waited for the little girl to nod before she stood up to go get her a cup of tea; she was trying her hardest to install a like for the substance in the little girl.

"Thanks," he whispered after she returned to behind the counter.

"What?"

"Thanks for being so good about it when Mai comes to work with me, I feel bad about having Kaede watch her every day."

She smiled and nodded, "I really love it, Mai-chan is so cute and precious."

"I think that she likes having you around to tell her about the whole heritages thing," he shrugged.

It took a moment for that to register, "you mean, me telling her about Japanese things?" All she received in return was a nod, "why don't you? Both you and your wife were just that. Are you… ashamed?"

"Obviously," he retorted as his gaze flickered up to meet hers.

With a frown she nodded as she looked out to the fairly full café, "would you like to learn Japanese? I could teach you and Mai-chan."

"That's nice of you, Kagome, but it's not like being half-jap has the best rep right now."

"But," she paused before her blue gems returned to him, "it'd be just between the three of us."

"I," he muttered before he sighed and glimpsed over to his daughter, "I'm not really great with picking up languages but Mai might like it. I'll ask her."

"Okay," she murmured, "she really is adorable."

"Yeah, she is," he agreed with another nod, "she looks a lot like her mom…"

"It must be hard," she whispered with a frown as her gems turned to him and the nostalgic yet sorrow filled expression, she had always fancied that look as handsome on him which was good since he wore it often. Sometimes she thought he had more scars within that needed healing than herself.

"I get by, it could be a lot worse," he countered with a weak attempt at a smile. "Everything was sort of falling apart before you came around, it was just me and Sango here and Kaede and me at home… it wasn't readjusting to civilian life too well but now that you're around," he shrugged as he looked to her, "it's easier."

"I'm glad I can help," she smiled, "I do love working here, I'm still so grateful—"

"I know," he assured her. He wasn't quite sure why she was able to ease his transition, perhaps because she was a part of the horror he witnessed back then? A symbol of the good that all that torment brought.

"You cannot ever thank a person enough, that's what my mother always said."

"Is that so?" he mused.

"I have a question for you," she swiftly stated as she took a step closer to him.

"Go for it."

"Can… I call you Inuyasha instead of Johnny?" She let her gaze fall to the counter as she tilted her head to the side, "just when no one else is around. I don't know… I think it's more fitting."

"You would have gotten along with my mother then," he gave a lopsided smile before he gave up, "sure, why not? When no one else is around, of course."

"Of course," she replied with her faint grin but that dissipated as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes to light another up, it was one of his many bad habits—along with the glass of scotch he drank every night after closing. But she couldn't complain, everyone had them and his was less annoying than most. At least, to her... really, in her eyes there was little that he could do wrong.

He was her savoir.

**{~x—x~}**

"That is wonderful, Alana," she had told her overly joyous sister-in-law the moment she was ambushed as soon as she returned home.

"Isn't it?" Alana had chimed back as she wrapped her arms around herself, "a child, I'm so excited and so is Souta."

She was truly happy for Alana and her brother, they both wanted a family and they surely had the means to raise one. She _was _happy it was just… there was a tinge of envy in that as well, she felt a rather terrible pang of it each time Alana brought up the topic. She knew that after all that the crude Colonel and atrocious General had done to her that she could never bare children that she would be a mother… a part of her was torn about that, a part wished she could but a larger part was almost grateful.

How could she bring a child into the world that allowed such horrors to unfold…? Souta and Alana were blind to them; they had never experienced such terrors, so of course they could joyously await the birth of their baby but…

She shook her head to return herself to the now, she could _not_ think back to the camp… to the acts she was forced to submit to or else she would never remember how to smile. So she shut her eyes, counted to three and opened them once more to return to the task at hand—cleaning up the café after closing.

All she had to do was whip down the tables, not think, not worry, not feel jealousy, nothing…

That was when a whiff of smoke reached her nostrils to cause her to shiver and shut her eyes once more, "Inuyasha?"

"Huh?" he replied weakly as he looked over the books once more while he sat upon the counter.

"Do you," she paused as she turned to look at him, her eyes fell to the floor, "never mind."

"Come on, Kagome," he clapped his hands once to get her to look at him, "tell me what it is. I know something has been bothering you for weeks now, I try not to pry but why don't you just tell me what's wrong?"

Was it that obvious…? Could he see throw her farce so easily?

She sighed as she glanced away while she bit her bottom lip, "well… Inuyasha, will you please stop… smoking around me? I really hate to ask you," she quickly added, "I really do it's just… I hate the smell it reminds me of… of…"

What those monsters did, they were _always_ smoking in that hellish cabin she hated to recall. Each time that familiar scent hit her nose she remembered a time better left in the past, the far, far past.

There was a glimmer of tears threatening to form in her eyes, of something horrible—he was certain that was what she was trying to say, perhaps even confess to some of those horrible deeds? Either way, he put out his cigarette quickly, "not a problem."

"I hate to ask…"

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, "it's a bad habit anyway, Mai hates it. I should stop."

"No, you don't have to stop, it's just…"

"If I don't stop, then my clothes will still smell like smoke," he theorized, "it's okay, I'll stop."

He knew terrible, terrible things must have happened to her so to see her smile at him and nod before she turned around to finish cleaning the tables was certainly a treat.

He had known since the moment that he met her that he wanted to do everything in his power to heal those wounds, since she unbeknownst mended his but the job was all he had to offer her, wasn't it?

What else could he give her?

* * *

**A/N**: Lager means camp in German, I couldn't bring myself to use a real one.

Well, I hope you enjoy. Please review. Thanks for reading.


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